Food review: ASK Italian, Shrewsbury

The creamy, mozzarella-like cheese originates from the south of Italy and was first made 100 years ago. An artisanal cheese, it’s now made commercially and is richer, smoother and creamier than mozzarella. When it featured on the menu of ASK Italian, all bets were off.

For as much as I love dough sticks, breadcrumbed spicy meatballs, calamari and zucchini fritte, and as appetising as rosemary and sea salt bread, cheese fonduta and mixed nuts piccante are, Burrata is another world of joy. Simple and delicate, it is the unctuous cousin of mozzarella.

It didn’t disappoint. A gossamer envelope of mozzarella encased tender, lissom stracciatella di bufala, a creamy cheese made from Italian buffalo milk. It quivered in just the right places and yielded sensuous satisfaction. A small and inconsequential salad of tomatoes and rocket, seasoned with cracked black pepper, completed the dish. Set against the burrata, it was underwhelming. As we head deep into summer, fields and greenhouses are ablaze with beautiful heritage tomatoes that are plump and sweet. If only ASK had procured better ingredients, the dish would have been a celebration of summer.

The restaurant is located Shrewsbury High Street and is part of a vast, 120-restaurant chain that was founded by brothers Adam and Samuel Kaye in 1993. It’s variously thought of as having been named after its founders’ initials, or representing an acronym for Authentic Sicilian Kitchen.

Since 2010, it’s figurehead has been the exceptional British chef Theo Randall, who specialises in Italian cuisine and is best known for winning a Michelin star at The River Café, in London. And yet Theo would have been disappointed by the service at ASK Shrewsbury. Slow, disengaged and ponderous, it let down what might have been a pleasant dinner.

Having been shown quickly to a table and given menus promptly, the evening proceeded at the pace of an anesthetized sloth. There were no visits to the table to ask ‘is everything OK with your dinner?’

And having given up on receiving my bill following a 15-minute wait, taking myself to the bar to settle up rather than grow old in my seat, the two front-of-house staff were merrily hanging out in the open plan kitchen, joshing with the chefs. Though Italy is the home of Slow Food, the Slow Service Movement has yet to catch on. And that’s just as well. For good service is as much a party of the dining experience as good food. Customers want to feel welcome, as though they’ve entered a home from home. They don’t want to feel as though they’re an intrusion or inconvenience. Staff should spend the bulk of their time on the floor, greeting guests, making the evening swing – rather than socialising outback.

No matter.

The main was a three-way choice: pizza, pasta or risotto. I opted for the former. It was a warm evening where the air was filled with the sweet, charcoal-ey smell of barbecues and the merry sound of laughter. And there are few things finer than a light and airy agglomeration of melted cheese, piquant tomato and airy dough – sprinkled with semolina for extra crunch – when it comes to summer.

My salami misti was topped with Milano and fennel salami, pepperoni and smoked prosciutto, roasted peppers and caramelised onion. The style of service was neat – a long, flat board with a circular pizza cutter so that perfectly-sized slices could be cut. But the toppings were on the parsimonious side, rather than generous – c’mon guys, the Italians invented La Dolce Vita, don’t hold back. The base was crisp and light, the toppings well-matched, with sweet, savoury, salty and a gentle acid dancing on the tongue like Ola Jordan doing the Charleston. If the star ingredients had been given top billing, it would have made a greater impression.

Desserts were a collection of Italian staples, with the addition of an enterprising Melting Eton Mess, comprising a chocolate tower filled with strawberries, cream and meringue, then melted with a hot berry coulis.

Shrewsbury has a number of Italian options for local diners. Carluccio’s is slicker than Elvis Presley’s hair. Good staff, an on-message menu and a light and airy dining room make it a perennial favourite. Zizzi does a pretty good job too, catering to a similar crowd to ASK. And then there are the independents: three or four family-run businesses vie for custom by offering something different and slightly more authentic than the chains can muster. Against that backdrop, ASK is in the chasing pack, rather than leading.

The quality it lacks is love. All of the ingredients are there – a few decent ingredients, a pleasant dining room, a prime location and everybody’s favourite mains – who doesn’t love pizza, pasta and risotto? There’s a decent drinks menu with craft lemonade and raspberry still lemonade, a 100 per cent Italian wine list and the usual collection of beers, cocktails and spirits. Hell, they even serve Messina Bira, Sicily’s most famous beer.

But there was no front of house presence from the three staff on duty. It felt oddly impersonal and a little cold. And in a restaurant serving food from one of the world’s great dining nations, that shouldn’t happen.

The food – burrata aside – lacked inspiration and was unmemorable. And the service was inattentive and generally poor. Not bothering to clear tables, offer more drinks or present a bill is bad form. When it comes to good service, you shouldn’t have to ASK.